


Holding Secrets Like a Crystal

by LadyHallen



Series: Telepath AU [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Applied Chemistry, Applied Physics, BROTP: Monica and Cor, Bombs, Feral Monica, Gen, Humor, Monica-centric story, Telepathy, siblinghood, telepathy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHallen/pseuds/LadyHallen
Summary: Monica is a telepath.This changes things, but everything else remains the same
Relationships: Monica Elshett & Cor Leonis, Monica Elshett & Dustin Ackers
Series: Telepath AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019814
Comments: 78
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

Monica Elshett wasn’t always a telepath.

That happened later, when she fell out of a tree and started hearing people’s minds.

No. Before the tree, she was an ordinary child that was just extra perceptive and sensitive to people around her. A broken branch and gravity seemed to open her mind to other things that everyone else couldn’t hear.

She handled it as well as little girl usually did to strange and impossible things.

She bawled her lungs out.

.

* * *

.

It was very lucky that Monica was a very smart child.

The next few years after The Incident, as she’d taken to calling it, had solidified the need for cleverness. Initially, she’d tried telling her parents. But after three visits to the doctor in quick succession, Monica learned to keep her mouth shut.

Her parents, being bureaucrats, had very little time to spare for her. This gave Monica the time to experiment and realize several things as fact.

One, that people’s minds weren’t in any way comparable to books. No, people’s minds were like radios. They broadcasted things so loudly.

Two, that the volume of a person’s radio depended on how intensely private they were as a person. A loud and extroverted woman might have a mind quieter than a mouse or vice versa.

Three, people didn’t really think about their crimes so much as picture them.

Monica came across her first crime at fifteen years old, a young man gloatingly thinking about his dead girlfriend’s body as he hacked her to pieces. The images floated to her mind, broadcasted by the murderer and Monica, walking down the street with a minor headache, staggered with nausea.

“Bahamut’s fucking balls,” Monica swore loudly, to the censure of a young mother and the delight of her child.

Monica had heard about people’s secrets, their thoughts and their sins, but it had been the first time she’d _seen_ it.

With another curse, she did a sharp turn of her heel and marched to the Crownsguard precinct.

.

* * *

.

The problem, of course, was that she had no proof based on actual, physical evidence.

Nothing, except her knowledge, and the location of the pieces of a woman.

Still, Monica wasn’t going to be deterred by something as plebian as other people’s limitations. They were their limitations, not hers. She just needed to convince _someone_ that those didn’t apply to her.

“I need an officer to come with me,” she repeated for the sixth time. “It’s urgent.”

The processing officer’s eyes had glazed over and his thoughts had turned to other things. He was so fucking useless.

But.

There was someone in the vicinity curious. About her.

Monica turned her head slowly, looking for the person and almost jumped out of her skin.

A man, in his mid-twenties, stared at her with intense, ice blue eyes.

“Well,” she said, staring right back at the man. “I need help.”

The man nodded slowly. “Alright. Then I will help you.”

While Monica could _feel_ his curiosity like a living thing against her skin, she almost couldn’t hear his thoughts, they were so quiet.

Still, if she concentrated, she heard it. He looked at her scruffy shoes, her messy hair and her fidgety hands and seemed fond. Like she reminded him of someone.

It was the first time she’d actually had to concentrate to hear someone’s thoughts and Monica decided, then and there, that she liked him.

“Here,” she took him to the burial. It only took a few spadefuls of earth from a hastily borrowed spade, and there she was. The poor woman. “This is her. Her boyfriend murdered her.”

He was frowning at the grave, grim and scowling. “And you know this how?”

Monica _hated_ questions like these. It reminded her, quite terribly, of her doctors.

“I heard it,” she said sharply. “And he gloated about it. I don’t know his name, or hers. But he gloated about it.”

“You only knew where,” he said, the light of understanding in his eyes. “I see. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Monica hadn’t done this to be _thanked_ , by Bahamut’s wrinkly old balls. She did this because she didn’t want to live in a city where an asshole like that boyfriend could make another victim. She couldn’t live with the knowledge that she could have _helped_.

Monica scowled at him darkly. “You don’t thank me, not about this. I did the right thing so I could sleep at night.”

She needed him to stop _thanking_ her. _Goddamit._

He nodded. “I will take care of it,” in that kind of voice you know would finish things.

He started calling people and people started arriving in _droves_. They taped up the area, they took samples of the earth and the spade and the _tree_. It was insane.

Monica stared at all of it with wide eyes and read so much of their determination to do the right thing that she didn’t even mind the cacophony of their thoughts. All of them were, to a person, thinking of helping the poor murdered woman.

It was amazing.

The man took her to the side to keep her out of the way but still managed to somehow make her see everything happening. His thoughts had faded back into obscurity now that she was no longer concentrating on him.

Then.

He knelt, so she was taller than him.

“Monica, I’m not thanking you for being a good person,” he said softly. “I’m thanking you for saving his other, potential victims.”

Monica curled her shoulders but nodded.

“My name is Cor Leonis,” he said, like he wasn’t famous. “And if you ever _hear_ anything like this again, don’t bother going to the precinct. Call me immediately. Here’s my number.”

She held on to his card with a kind of desperation that she hoped wasn’t too obvious. Monica heard a lot of things. She had hoped, at least, that she could save someone. Or make a difference somewhere.

That she did. That an adult confirmed that she did…!

Monica started to cry.

.

* * *

.

Monica called Cor Leonis a grand total of three times after that.

The first, when she was eighteen, was because she had heard several fraternity boys in her college plan terrible things for the girls attending the party. She called him, and he answered, despite it being two in the morning.

An entire unit of officers show up in the frat party and saved several girls. Cor sent her a gift basket that made her laugh.

The next, a couple of months after that, was because she heard her professor’s thoughts and realized that he was a fucking predator with an actual shrine to the girls he molested, complete with _videos_.

Monica had actually barricaded the door and shivered in her bathtub until Cor himself knocked on the door and told her that Professor Morstan had been arrested just a few minutes ago.

She ran to him for a hug and he was so surprised. But he didn’t push her away.

The third time, Monica called him for the requirements for entrance into the Crownsguard. He answered by knocking on her door thirty minutes later with all the paperwork and a proud smile on his face.

“I’ll be working for you now,” she told him seriously as she filled out the forms.

He smiled, which transformed his face. “Honestly, Monica, everyone has been asking me what I’ve been paying my informant. If that’s the case, I probably owe you several years of back pay.”

Monica laughed.

.

* * *

.

The Crownsguard had insane requirements, both mental and physical, and if Monica hadn’t been thinking and planning for it for years, she might have been blindsided.

Cor helped her plan, telling her certain study tactics that would have been useful in university. He also left her with an entire packet of exercises to do for an entire three months, so she would be ready for the exams.

Which he would be hosting. Fucking Bahamut.

“I’m not going to hold back on you, just because I like you,” he told her sternly.

His mind was light, broadcasting a very light music that she was starting to think that Cor _associated_ with her.

“I didn’t think you knew the meaning of the word,” she said blandly, rubbing her bruised wrist.

His lips quirked into a smile and his mind freaking laughed.

Cor’s mind had been getting louder around her, something that made Monica realize that that meant he _trusted_ her. It blew her mind, honestly.

“Don’t stress out on this, kid. You’ll do great,” he said. _She’s gonna blow all their socks out of the water_ , his mind thought.

It had her fighting a blush.

“Thanks, Cor,” she said quietly.

.

* * *

.

Monica had a mantra in her head.

WWCD. What would Cor Do?

It came in incredibly handy when faced with sexist trainees and misogynistic trainers at the boot camp. Monica was one of two women, and the other one was a very tall woman with visible muscles called Daisy.

She’d confided to Monica that her muscles came from helping her dad out as a blacksmith.

With Daisy looking like she could bench press several behemoths, Monica was the target of hazing. Bullying, she thought, looking at their calm faces and hearing their leering thoughts.

WWCD, she mused. Cor would let them eat their tongues in jealousy.

With a vicious smile, she looked at the exercises with renewed determination.

At the wall climbing, she made sure to climb the fastest. At the weapons assembly and maintenance, she made sure to ace that too, memorizing the smallest component.

Everything else, she aced. Their thoughts leered less and veered more to respect. Some, of course, went to jealousy.

But that, she knew how to counter. If they thought they were vicious, they had nothing on jealous teenage girls.

Monica did physicals, and aced the written tests. All the while dodging increasingly terrible sabotage attempts. She dodged laxatives in her food, snakes in her uniform and itching powder in her pants. When they went to acid in her shampoo, she smiled toothily and had to hold back a cackle.

Evidence. They had to leave her with evidence, the idiots.

She went to the trainer with the common sense and watched everything fall like dominoes.

.

* * *

.

“Congratulations, Ace,” Cor teased her as he handed over her diploma. “Your scores are the highest for the past decade.”

Monica ducked her head. “Who was the highest before me?” she had to ask. It was her damned curiosity.

“Mine,” he said. “Good job, Crownsguard.”

“Sir,” she saluted.

 _So fucking proud of the kid,_ his mind went. _Regis, you owe me so much money._

Monica froze for a second.

He had bet on her results! And he didn’t have the decency to split the pay.

She huffed. Well, that was her own damned fault for attuning her listening so much to Cor that she could hear his thoughts through a crowd.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monica goes about through life with the power of spite.

Monica had thought that the rest of the actual Crownsguard would be like her trainers and the other trainees. But, aside from the double takes she’d received after she’d collapsed the training building with two strategically placed bombs, no one said anything about her being a woman.

If anything, the men admired her nerve. Not for what she thought.

“You actually like the Marshall, don’t you?” Dustin asked her. “He’s such a scary bastard though.”

Monica would probably share their opinion, but since she could in fact hear his thoughts and had known him since she was fifteen, she knew that Cor was a different. She couldn’t say why, but there was something about a man who took one look at a fifteen year old girl and knew that she was asking for help.

“He’s alright,” she replied, instead of saying all of that.

Dustin shook his head thinking, _Wow she’s amazing_. What he said was, “Kudos to you, Elshett. You have balls of steel.”

“Don’t have balls,” Monica said, just to hear him splutter.

Monica laughed at Dustin and after a moment, he laughed with her. She knew then that she’d found a friend.

.

* * *

.

Monica continued to work her way up.

She had good days and bad days, of course. Good days when the thoughts of people were manageable and could be tuned out. Bad days when she couldn’t even focus on work because of how fucking loud everything was.

She had medicine that she had prescribed herself after one doctor’s visit too many. It worked and she could function. Minimally.

The best days were when she could work with Cor.

From taking down criminals to doing paperwork, Cor’s mind was so _quiet_ that Monica just. Relaxed. He was so incredibly soothing to work with.

Someone noticed and Monica found herself summoned to meet the king.

.

* * *

.

Monica had to work on keeping her face blank, no matter what she heard. Especially working in the Citadel, where everyone’s thoughts were incredibly confidential.

The king was older than her, older than Cor and there was white peppered in his hair. He face was also covered in laugh lines.

 _There she is!_ The king thought, his mind almost as quiet as Cor’s but not much. Nobody’s mind was as quiet as Cor’s.

“Your majesty,” she said, doing a deep bow.

She had seen the toll it took on him to keep the barrier up. She respected him immensely.

“Lieutenant Elshett,”the King greeted. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Monica felt her eyebrows rise an inch involuntarily. Given what she knew about Cor, she doubted that. Still, she didn’t say _that_ to the kings face.

“Sire?” she asked, affecting confusion.

“Cor says you’re a pleasure to work with. How would you like to be Cor’s assistant?” he asked eagerly.

Monica had too much self-respect to immediately say yes.

“Isn’t that just another word for secretary, sire?” she asked warily

The king shook his head. “A secretary doesn’t fight. You would hold the office for Cor when he’s deployed in his special missions.”

For a king, his explanations sucked. “You want me to be his second,” she said. She didn’t gape. She wanted to.

 _It would be great if you married him_ , the king thought which, WHAT. “Yes,” the king said. “It would be a promotion.”

First, Monica had to slap that thought away from the king immediately.

Monica allowed herself to sigh. “Your majesty, if I may be blunt?” she said. When he nodded, she continued, “Everyone in the Crownsguard already knows I’m gunning for his second. If you assign it to me without due merit, there will be accusations of me sleeping with someone for the position.”

The very _idea_ of sleeping with Cor made ice go up and down her spine. It was a terrible thought. Monica cursed the king for even thinking of it.

“Then you need to go on more missions for you to be assigned to it this year,” the king decided. “Your mission statistics and success rates are good, but there needs to be more…oomph.”

Monica felt that old spite rise up. Hmm.

If the king wanted oomph, she would give him oomph.

.

* * *

.

Monica asked Cor for permission.

It was one thing to think about it and plan it, but she wouldn’t inflict herself on someone if they didn’t want it.

“Sir. Cor,” she said when she found him in his office. “I’m going to be your second.” She announced it bluntly. It was better to rip these things off like a bandage than to dither and worry about it.

Cor nodded. “I had hoped you would. Hemminks is a good second, but he’s not...” he trailed off, and his mind added, _He’s so fucking annoying._

“I’m going to need to go on a mission,” she said. “The king asked for more oomph.”

Cor’s eyebrows were high on his forehead. “More oomph.” _By Bahamut’s fucking asshole, Regis, what the fuck._

Monica felt herself smile viciously. “If he asks for more oomph, I will give it to him. With interest.”

 _Holy shit, this kid is exactly like me ten years ago._ “There are several Niff bases in Duscae. One of which is a military supply depot. I’ll leave that to your discretion,” Cor sounded so dry and deadpan. Monica wanted to laugh.

“I’ll be back in a month or less,” she said. And by then, I will be your second, she thought giddily. “One last request, sir.”

He nodded.

“Can you sign whatever I requisition?”

Cor cracked a smile. “Do you even have to ask?”

Monica laughed on her way out.

.

* * *

.

As Crownsguard, she had access to a small bit of the kings magic. It manifested itself in different ways. Others had minor elemancy or the warping bullshit. Monica had an endless magical bag.

She loved it.

Monica stuffed it to the gills with bombs, more bombs and so many bombs. When that made the supplies department protest, she acquiesced and asked instead for the chemicals to make the bombs, which they had more of. _Is she fucking insane_ was a recurring thought in their minds.

When she felt satisfied of that, she moved on to her favorite: knives. Five packs of throwing knives, two long knives, a sword and five different guns with a number of bullets.

Supplies looked just about ready to throw her out of the window when she declared she was done and Cor was just laughing as he signed off on her requisition.

Then he surprised her by handing the keys to his old motorcycle.

“I used to ride this all the time,” he explained. “But since I got old enough, I had responsibilities and passengers. This old bike is good for long distance missions.”

She hugged him in her jubilation and did a dance around the bike. When she’d controlled her giddiness over it, she saluted him and rode off.

.

Monica’s specialty, in her file, was demolitions. To her, it was just a fancy way for saying that she was very good with bombs.

If the king wanted oomph, she would give him so much oomph.

.

A month later, almost all of Niflheim’s bases in Lucis were on fire and rubble.

And Cor handed over her promotion with a longsuffering expression despite the glee echoing from his mind.

Dustin cornered her in her new office and asked, “Is it true that you told the king that you’d set fire to Niflheim if you could be Cor’s second?”

 _Was that what the rumors were saying??_ Monica wondered where the hell that came from. But she didn’t question it.

“No,” she told Dustin, deliberately slowly. As though she was lying.

Dustin’s face was a picture.

.

* * *

.

Monica, despite all her efforts to appear underwhelming and ordinary, reached an overwhelming status all on her own as well.

She could hear all their thoughts whisper it and even if she wanted them all to stop, she couldn’t very well force them to stop thinking it. _Monica, the guard who set fire to Niflheim bases in Lucis for Cor Leonis._

Still, working for Cor changed how they interacted, yet at the same time, not at all. Cor was still had quiet thoughts and was still the cause of most of her good days. And he still thought of her fondly even if they both interacted with each other professionally.

At the same time, it seemed that the king had waited for years for Cor to find a competent second. He started sending Cor out on more missions that kept him out of the Citadel for months. Once, it took a year.

Monica all but ran the Crownsguard in his absence then, even if she still had to turn to Clarus Amicita for some of the paperwork to be signed.

It made some of the guard bitter because she had only joined them in less than three years and had already risen so high. The bitter ones weren’t as many as she’d thought and maybe the king had a point.

Oomph really helped.

Ugh, she would never say it out loud, the king would hear and then he would be insufferably smug.

.

* * *

.

“Sir,” she greeted, very happy to see him alive. “Welcome back.”

Cor looked terrible, but she’d seen him worse states. She gestured and one guard ran for medical and another ran for the king. The others, she sent them to keep everyone away. It just wouldn’t do for the Marshall to be seen looking so bad; it would not look good for moral.

“Monica,” he sighed. His shoulders loosened minutely and Monica heard him think, _Ah, she’s so grown up now._ Which. What in the world?

“It’s good to be back,” he said quietly. “Anything interesting happen?”

“His highness has learned to warp to his favorite toy,” she informed him dryly. “It was in the roof. His majesty had kittens.”

Cor huffed a laugh. “I can imagine.” _Regis, that was karma for being such a shit._

“One of the glaive has discovered the joy of elemancy,” Monica continued, noting that her nonsensical reports were actually doing wonders for calming him down. “She has then used it to cook a wild boar on a spit using lightning.”

Cor actually had to stop to laugh, his shoulders shaking. Unbidden, an image came to his mind and thus, she could see it as well. Of the king, younger, but using a fireball to cook a bird on a spit and the ensuing explosion of bird and charred wood.

Monica bit her tongue to hold back her own laughter. Gods, but she missed Cor.

“Was the glaive alright?” Cor asked after he’d calmed down. “Did she get hurt?”

Monica gave him a smirk. “She was fine. The boar was not.”

Cor laughed again.

His eyes, which had been dark with grief, finally lightened.

Monica watched him with hidden concern and did her best to keep him happy.

But his mind, which had been steadily growing louder for her, said one thing that made her worried. _Prompto, I’m sorry_.

Who…or what, was a Prompto?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Monica cements badass status in the eyes of everyone in the Citadel.

Monica never did get her answers.

Despite being the second to the Marshall of the Crownsguard and basically the one who ran the entire place when the Marshall wasn’t there, she still wasn’t the Marshall. There were some things that were confidential even to her.

And Cor’s mission that took a year…that was clearly beyond confidential.

She decided to keep the name, and Cor’s secret grief, close to her heart.

Occasionally, she would hear his musing on what Prompto was doing. Finally, years of waiting, and the image of a blonde baby held in Cor’s arms surfaced and Monica immediately broke into a coughing fit.

By Bahamut’s fucking shield, did Cor get a kid? And what happened to him? He was clearly alive. Perhaps he was adopted out.

No wonder Cor mourned. He had to give away his son.

Monica had a headache. That was what she got for being so curious.

.

* * *

.

“Dustin, I swear to Bahamut, don’t you dare – “ Monica started.

“I triple double dog dare you,” he said. “To a drinking contest, lieutenant.”

Oh Astrals, and he did it in front of witnesses too.

Monica sighed. “Fine. Fuck. Fine.”

.

Ten drinks later, and Monica stared at the bottom of her glass with a quiet expression of immense sadness.

“Cor’s just so nice,” she told Dustin earnestly. “He’s so nice. The best person ever. And not one of you fuckers are nice to him.”

Dustin blinked. “You’re related?” he asked because he was drunk too and selective hearing was a thing.

“By brain!” Monica announced. “We’re related by brain. The brain cell.”

It made immense sense to her. Must have made sense to Dustin too, because he nodded.

“Yes, the brain cell,” Dustin mused. “His sword is so cool.”

Cor arrived at one point, because Monica noticed the rhythm of his brain radio.

“Thank you,” Cor said dryly, making Dustin jump a foot in the air. “For appreciating my sword, Ackers.”

There were several wolf whistles at that, as Dustin blanched at the unintended double entendre.

“S-sir, I didn’t think,” Dustin stammered.

“No you did not,” Cor glowered. He ushered Monica up, who at that point was seeing double. She staggered and he supported her firmly.

“Come now, to bed with you, kid,” he murmured.

Monica blearily looked in his direction with a drunken smile. “Best human ever,” she muttered, before passing out.

.

* * *

.

Monica was used to intense headaches that caused her to vomit due to her telepathy. Hangovers were nothing.

The guard, who had expected her to take a leave of absence after the ten shots she did, looked awestruck as she worked like nothing had happened the night before.

“Don’t you get hangovers?” Dustin demanded.

His loud voice made her head throb, but Monica didn’t even show it. She was used to the pain.

“Of course,” she said. “But my pain tolerance is especially high for headaches.”

 _What the fuck, Monica._ “Monica, you must have a head made of steel,” Dustin said.

Cor, who she hadn’t noticed lurking because of the distraction provided by her hangover, loomed. “Monica, why do you have a pain tolerance for headaches?” he demanded. _What the hell, kid?_

She sighed. “I am prone to debilitating headaches, ever since I was a child. No medicine has ever helped, so I’ve learned to work through it.”

A spike of pain made her brow wrinkle involuntarily before she smoothed it over again. It was too much to hope that Cor wouldn’t notice. Because he did.

“Monica, come with me to medical while we get you diagnosed with actual competent doctors,” Cor ordered.

Monica _hated_ doctors. With a passion. After one doctor had recommended her to be exorcised, she wanted nothing to do with them.

“I’m fine,” she said. “But if you insist sir.”

“I insist.”

Astrals, he was so stubborn.

She radiated extreme dislike the entire time they were in medical. Even if the doctor diagnosed her with better, stronger medication, Monica _stared_ at Cor.

 _Fuck, this kid is so stubborn_. “Have a rest day, Monica,” he said. “If you continue working, I’ll extend it to five days.”

He was absolutely serious. Monica finally allowed a scowl to cross her face. “Sir,” she saluted with a frown.

Monica packed her things and passed by his highness with his retainer. Monica saluted him while stepping aside, and Noctis smiled and waved.

Despite being a very reserved boy, Noctis’s mind was loud. Louder than his father and certainly louder than Dustin.

 _Oh, it’s Monica! She’s so cool. Scary cool._ “Hi lieutenant! You’re going home?” he asked, looking at the bag on her back.

Monica smiled at him, ridiculously fond of the boy. “Yes, your highness. I have a terrible headache and the Marshall has ordered me home.”

 _She says she has a headache but looks as unmoved as a cucumber. Wow that’s a crazy pain tolerance,_ Ignis Scientia thought.

“Oh, you’re sick!” Noctis exclaimed. “You better hurry home so you can rest and feel better.”

Monica saluted again. “Thank you, your highness.”

 _Man, the last time Prompto had a headache, he had to stay home for a week. Monica is really cool._ Noctis said, turning away.

Monica’s feet only faltered for a second before she continued walking.

She was giddy with amusement and probably high from the pain and medicine. But still, she had finally found a lead to Prompto.

.

* * *

.

Prompto, it turned out, was a blonde teenager with a smile like sunshine and a very cheerful disposition.

Monica, looking at him, realized that Prompto’s everything must have come from the other parent. Because even if the Marshall was in a good mood, she had never seen him smile that much.

“Are we sure we’re authorized to do this?” Dustin asked as she commandeered several city cameras to stalk the boy on his way home.

“Nope,” Monica said blithely. “But if anyone asks, just blame me.”

 _Hot damn._ “Alright boss, as you do. Why are we taking pictures of him though?”

Monica smiled. “It’s for an early birthday present. Also, get me a file of Prompto’s parents.”

Dustin did so with a frown the entire time. Well, maybe she hadn’t said anything when she made Cor sign the forms for Monica to do monitor duty but since Cor didn’t ask, she didn’t say anything. If Cor didn’t know, the King couldn’t scold him.

“Boss,” Dustin said, dread in his voice. “His parents…are the Argentums? But. They’re hardly in Insomnia. I checked their travel records and…”

Monica looked over Dustin’s monitor and frowned. “Check their bank accounts. Are they hiring anyone to take care of him the entire time? And when did this start? Prompto’s what, fourteen?”

Dustin searched and brought up their bank accounts, probably hacking into the Insomnia’s banking guild. But he didn’t say anything. Which was one of the reasons why she really liked Dustin. He didn’t ask unnecessary questions like Cor.

“They started leaving regularly when he was six, boss. No records of anyone hired to watch over him.”

Monica wanted to curse. She wanted this to be a nice surprise for Cor. A little bit of info on his kid. Maybe he signed stipulations that he couldn’t voluntarily seek out the child. So Monica did it for him. But if his kid was being _neglected_ \- !

“I’ll back check the camera records of the ones near his house. Is he – “ Monica brought up old files. It was a good thing that the Citadel recorded everything.

“That could take days!” Dustin complained even as he did as he was told.

“Luckily, I already signed our overtime forms,” Monica said.

Dustin sighed. _This is revenge for the hangover._

Monica had to hold back giggles.

.

* * *

.

It took reviewing the tapes for three days with overtime, but they had everything.

It wasn’t pretty.

“This is a neglect case,” Dustin sighed. After the second day, he’d gotten pretty invested. “Monica, we can’t even report it because the evidence we gathered isn’t authorized by anyone!”

Monica waved that complaint away. “That’s fine. I can just get Cor to sign it and backdate it for me.”

Dustin stared, wide eyed, as Monica did just that.

She presented the files to Cor while Dustin watched from safe distance. Cor’s frown went from his normal frown to a glowering thundercloud that he usually wore blowing up bases in Niflheim.

“Monica,” Cor finally said, tone foreboding.

Monica crossed her arms. “Your kid, sir.”

Cor stood up and Dustin bit his fingers, very sure that Cor was going to - ! Hug her. Cor hugged her.

“Thank you,” Cor said, voice very soft and gentle. “Thank you. I’ll take care of this now.”

Monica nodded, her face flushed. “Yes sir. Don’t worry about the guard, I can take care of everything here.”

He smiled at her, and Dustin blinked. “Best human ever,” Cor said, patting her head.

Dustin and Monica stared blankly as Cor walked away with purpose.

As one, they looked at each other.

“Did he just – “ Monica asked.

“Yup.” And like that, Dustin started to laugh at the awestruck look on Monica’s face.

.

Monica still wasn’t sure if Cor knew she could read minds.

Cor didn’t ask, and Monica never said anything.

Still, it was reassuring that Cor never doubted her at all. If she said anything, Cor would believe it without hesitation. Dustin took this as Cor playing favorites.

“That just speaks of my track record,” Monica said. “How many arrests and cases have I solved while working for the guard?”

Dustin dully repeated, “More than any guard has ever done since Cor Leonis himself.” _I should know, I checked the facts myself._

Monica nodded. “There. So you see, it is not favoritism.”

“You’re a brat, boss,” Dustin said, to everyone’s resounding “Oooohh’s!”

Monica held a shit eating grin in Dustin’s direction and said, “Still your boss, Dustin.”

.

* * *

.

Prompto moved in with Cor, and Monica knew this because the blonde baby that Cor usually imagined when he thought of Prompto, morphed into a blonde teenager with a wide smile.

Not that Cor said anything after he stalked off with the intent to skewer the Argentums with his sword.

“Just to you know,” Cor said. “Prompto will be staying with you when I have my solo missions from the king.”

Monica stared. “Am I equipped to babysit teenagers?” she asked.

“More than I am,” he said. “I didn’t even have a guest room when he moved in.”

The image of a sword storage rose in Cor’s mind and Monica had to hold back a gasp. Fucking Astrals, that was a lot of swords.

“Of course sir,” Monica said after a moment. “He seems to have settled in well despite the swords.”

Which. Uhm. Was a mistake. Because Monica just either a.) admitted to stalking them or b.) read Cor’s mind about it.

Cor stared at her for a long time. Eventually, he slowly said, “Yes. He did.”

Both of them stared at each other, before going back to their respective paperwork.

Honestly, this don’t ask don’t tell policy they had going on was sometimes very awkward, especially if Monica slipped and forgot to pretend to be normal.

 _Fuck I need a drink,_ Cor thought, which Monica echoed fervently. Damn, she needed new hobbies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monica is rapidly reaching that point where she's going, "It's not stalking if it's for their own good!"
> 
> Comments please!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Monica teaches Prompto in how to be terrifying (thereby traumatizing several innocent bystanders) and gives Cor a headache at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, we are now stumbling into Plot. What even.

Monica’s first foray into babysitting happened much earlier than she thought.

Just three weeks after Prompto moved in with Cor, his majesty handed down another solo mission.

Monica listened to this with a frown on her usually placid face. She didn’t realize the effect this had on others because she was thinking, _What on Eos do teenagers eat? What did I eat at that age?_

Monica’s earlier childhood had been overshadowed by secrecy, headaches and a lot of trial and error of her powers. However, she did know that teenagers ate a lot.

“Prompto has homework at night,” Cor instructed, giving her an entire envelope. “Here’s his curriculum, his meal habits and his circadian rhythms.” _Is that enough? Should I give her his medical records as well? What about the adoption papers?_

Monica wanted to sigh but it was the first time she’d ever seen Cor fret and it was honestly adorable.

“We’ll be fine,” she said. “And if all else fails, I can improvise.”

She smiled at him cheerfully. Which. Uhm. Did not have the effect she intended.

“Monica, don’t smile like that,” Cor said, sounding closer to his normal deadpan. “It’ll terrify the interns.” _I don’t know what she means by improvise, and I don’t want to know._

She stepped to the side and watched him repeat almost the entire process with Prompto.

Prompto’s mind was an interesting one. Even if he showed himself off as a loud and happy child, Prompto’s mind was very quiet. In fact, it was almost as quiet as Cor’s when Monica first met him.

Either that meant he didn’t trust her, or he was a very private person. Might be a combination of both, she thought, looking at him and hearing his mind go a bit louder as he tugged on Cor’s hand and looked at him with adoration.

The goodbye’s were done with and Cor finally left, having taken back his bike from Monica after her month long jaunt around Lucis. Prompto and Monica waved at him cheerfully.

“Ah,” Monica sighed. “I guess it’s just going to be us, huh, Prompto?”

Prompto blushed red and nodded, looking at his feet shyly. It was so cute.

“Cor gave me everything he thought I would need to make the transition comfortable. Let’s hope he doesn’t take too long,” she said to him. “The last time, he took a while. The shortest he’s ever been gone was just a week.”

She held out her hand and he took it and Monica felt her heart melt a little at the hesitant gesture.

“Ah, Miss Monica,” Prompto stuttered. “You don’t have to go out of your way so much. I can take care of myself.” _I don’t want to be a bother._

His mind was really quiet. Honestly, if Monica didn’t have so much practice with Cor’s even quieter mind, she would likely not hear him at all.

“No,” she shook her head. “If Cor hears what happened to you while he’s away, he’s likely to skin me alive. And besides, since you’re too sweet to leave alone. I’d like to get to know you.”

Prompto immediately tripped on his feet, only saved by the fact that Monica was holding his hand. “Ah. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Let’s see,” Monica consulted the paperwork. “It’s now seven, so I suppose that means school. But Cor told me he excused you for today for the transition, so. Breakfast, and what do you want to do?”

Prompto blinked up at her shyly and his blue eyes sparkled. Monica wanted to die, he was so cute.

“Don’t you have work today, Miss Monica?” he asked.

Monica did indeed have work. Double the work, actually, since she had to do hers and Cor’s at the same time. But Prompto was obviously out of sorts in his first day without his guardian.

“Don’t you have homework?” she asked.

He nodded.

Monica smiled. “Alright kid, so here’s what were going to do...”

.

* * *

.

Monica didn’t know anyone whose mind could relax her as much as Cor’s ever could until she met Prompto.

It was so quiet.

Sure, he babbled a lot more, but things said out loud were honestly quieter than things thought about. Minds just didn’t have volume control.

Monica honestly enjoyed working with Prompto, until he thought, _Chemistry sucks, fuck Physics I hate all sciences why can’t I just do mechanics?_

As a double major in Physics and Chemistry, Monica was _offended_.

“Having trouble?” Monica interrupted, looking at Prompto working at Cor’s table.

Prompto jumped, before he sighed. “Yes.”

As a naturally shy boy, admitting that must have meant he really needed the help.

“How can I help?” Monica asked.

Listening to Prompto’s questions, Monica realized that it wasn’t that Prompto was stupid or just naturally hated the subject. It was that there were some people that don’t want to learn things that they think aren’t useful. And Prompto was one of those people. Luckily, Monica was one of them too. It was a good thing she’d learned how useful physics and chemistry was for daily living before taking the subject.

“I think I see the problem here,” Monica finally said. “You don’t see much use for it? Do you want examples?”

“Please!” Prompto nodded. _Please not another car scenario, for Bahamut’s sake._

Monica swallowed down her amusement. “Have you ever seen Cor fight?” she asked instead.

Prompto looked surprised. “Yes. He took me to the training salle because I asked him for a running track. He trained some of the guard while I ran around.”

“So, did you see him jump up a building? Run up a wall?”

An image came to his mind of Cor doing just that and Monica nodded.

“Yes? Which. Is insane. I didn’t know normal people can do that.” The boy sounded so offended like it was a secret of the universe that people isn’t sharing with him. Monica held back a laugh.

“What Cor is doing is actually applied physics,” she explained to him. “Cor is one of those rare people I’ve met that know their body very well. He knows how much he weighs, he knows how strong he is and he also knows how much force and friction it needs to run up a wall.”

Prompto’s mouth was hanging open. “You can’t mean to tell me that Cor the Immortal does math every time he’s fighting!!”

At that, Monica did laugh. Prompto’s head was imagining a really funny image of Cor being a giant calculator.

“No,” she managed to say. “He does not. But I heard from the king that Cor did _experiments_ and all his notes were on angles and speed and vectors. After he mastered that, Cor doesn’t need to do math anymore. He experienced it, mastered it and applied it every day.”

Not that his majesty ever really told Monica. But Monica _heard._ Honestly, the number of secrets that Monica knows about surprised her too. She had blackmail on the king just by hanging around with Cor.

“But Cor doesn’t do Chemistry?” Prompto added, looking more thoughtful.

Monica smiled. “Ah, but I do. And do you know what my specialty is, Prompto?”

 _Oh shit._ “Setting things on fire?” he asked carefully.

Her smile widened. “No, though that’s a lovely side effect. My specialty is making things explode with things you normally wouldn’t think about using. And that’s applied chemistry.”

.

* * *

.

Cor returned after a week.

Which was a relief to both Prompto and Monica. While both of them got along really well after trying out Prompto’s homemade bomb in the Crownsguard training room, they were both intensely private people that didn’t trust easily and didn’t like sharing their space with new people.

Cor took a day off, took Prompto out of school and went around with the kid in the park.

Monica breathed a sigh of relief that her marshal was back in good shape and took an early afternoon off, going home to her apartment and determined to eat her body weight in ice cream and brownies.

Which she almost choked to death on when Cor barged into her apartment. Bahamut’s shield, she’d forgotten she’d given him a copy of her keys.

“Monica, you taught him how to make bombs?” Cor demanded. _Monica, why?_

Monica coughed and drank a cup of milk. She wasn’t ashamed to be caught out wearing what was basically sleeping clothes at three in the afternoon. She was at home. Cor was the one who barged in, the shame was his problem.

“I helped him with his homework,” she corrected when she could talk without fudge in her airways. “He needed a more practical demonstration.”

 _What the fuck, Monica._ “He’s fifteen years old! He doesn’t need to know that!” Cor said. “What would he even use that for?”

Monica folded her arms and glared at him. “Cor, he said he doesn’t see the uses of physics or chemistry. His teacher is a dunce. So I taught him better. The kid wasn’t scared, he liked it!”

 _She has a point, but._ “You’re not getting the point,” he sighed.

“Then what was the point?” she asked. “I earned this ice cream and you’re not taking it away from me. I had to babysit. I didn’t know I was a private person but I just found out that I am a week ago.”

Cor rubbed a hand over his face. “Just. Teach him anything else, just no more bombs.” _Astrals, she really is just like me at that age._

.

* * *

.

Chemistry and physics had so much more application in daily life than bombs.

The next babysitting gig, Monica taught Prompto about applying angles in shooting. Which. The kid excelled at. Holy shit that was crazy accuracy.

“You’re really good at guns, and you have an eye for angles,” Monica hummed thoughtfully. “Let me teach you about trick shots. If Cor asks, it’s applied physics.”

Prompto nodded eagerly. “Yes please.” _Teach me how to be scary and badass!_

“There are some surfaces that accept ricochet,” she told him, keeping her face straight with some effort. “And some bullets that do bounce. But there are also some that just. Don’t work. It’s your job to figure that shit out. Cor might be back late so that’s something for you to have fun with, alright?”

Prompto accepted the tray of guns, the crate of bullets and the random, assorted items that Monica plopped into the training room. _Oh Astrals, this is so cool._

“I’ll just sit over here,” she waved to where she kept a spare table. “Doing paperwork. Shout if you need help.”

“Will do!” Prompto shouted gleefully. _Monica is the best._

Monica smiled as she signed forms. The marshal really shouldn’t have complaints this time, it wasn’t bombs.

.

* * *

.

The marshal had complaints.

Monica stared at him.

“Why did you teach him about guns?” Cor asked. He had been gone for two and a half weeks this time.

“You said no bombs,” Monica pointed out. “Guns are not bombs. And besides, the kid had fun. It’s applied physics, Cor. He couldn’t use it until he figured out vectors. After that stipulation, he finished his homework really fast.”

 _Oh Astrals._ “Did he at least finish the experiment?”

Monica nodded, still unsure of what was the point. “Yes. He figured out ricochet and angles after two hours. He was so happy; I had to give him ice cream.”

Which had been a fun afternoon. Monica belatedly remembered the kids’ trouble after too much sugar in Cor’s notes. Mainly, that he couldn’t sleep afterwards. Ah well. Errors were not mistakes but learning curves.

 _My mistake was not being specific._ “Monica, teach him how to cook, or how to bake or how to drive. Nothing about…guns or bombs or shit like that,” Cor sighed, sounding incredibly longsuffering.

Monica blamed what happened next on sleep deprivation.

“Okay. And yeah, it was really your mistake for not specifying what I could and couldn’t teach him,” Monica’s mouth said without her tired brain’s input.

Shit.

Ugh, fuck.

Both of them stared at each other for a long, long moment, before Cor immediately changed the subject by going, “It’s your turn to go out for a solo mission next week, Regis mentioned it earlier.”

Monica bobbed her head, determinedly ignoring the cursing his brain was doing. “Of course sir. I will, of course, borrow your bike.”

“After all the shit you’ve pulled, I really shouldn’t,” Cor grumbled, but he handed over his keys either way.

 _Fuck fuck fuck_ both their minds went.

 _I need a drink,_ Cor thought, at the same time Monica went, _I need to blow something up._

.

* * *

.

Monica loved solo missions.

That is, until she stumbled on General Glauca and almost got killed when she heard a really familiar brain radio from him.

 _What the fuck_ , she thought blankly. She stared at General Glauca advancing on her and cursed everything and everyone.

Monica detonated her pre-planted charges and escaped, mind a whirl and just. So confused.

When she finally finished the mission, she had gone from confusion, to anger. So much anger, that she’d gone right round to calm.

Monica curled her fists and plotted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monica: *teaches Prompto how to make bombs*  
> Cor: no more bombs!  
> Monica: *teaches Prompto how to shoot guns* he can't be angry now  
> Cor: *angry* no more guns!  
> Monica: *surprised pikachu face*
> 
> Comments please!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even are fight scenes? Hnngh.

The good thing about fast tracking to be the marshal’s second was that very few people truly knew Monica in the guard. 

Those who just looked at her and didn’t realize a Monica in a good mood and a Monica in a temper were two very different people. 

There was, of course, Dustin, who took one look at her face and went white. 

“Monica, wha – “ he stammered. _Oh_ _Astrals_ _, she’s_ _really angry._ _What happened?_

Monica grabbed him and went to the place no one really went to - the Library. 

“I need you to get me the following people’s schedules,” she told him. “And I need it today.” 

Dustin didn’t relax. “Alright,” he said. “But. Uhm. Do you need bombs?” _Is something going to explode?_

“Only one thing is going to explode and it’s not someone anyone will care about,” she muttered darkly, stalking off to plant some remote detonated charges. 

_Is it too late to rethink this friendship?_ “I’ll get it to you later,” Dustin promised behind her. 

.

* * *

. 

Cor, who unfortunately also knew her very well, hesitated in the threshold of his office. 

Given that Monica was rewiring the sprinklers and swearing darkly, maybe it was less to do with how well he knew her and more on how he knew the sprinkler system worked. 

“Monica, kid,” he started warily. _How do I say this?_ “Are you going to bomb the Citadel?” 

Monica dropped the pliers. “Cor, what the fuck?” _Shit, don’t just say it out loud_ _._

Cor relaxed at the face of her surprise, getting the wrong conclusion. “You’re messing with the water sprinklers and its alarm,” he explained. 

Monica shook her head. “Uhm. I’m just removing the water part, not the alarm. But how did you know?” 

_Well, that’s not alarming at all or anything._ “So you _are_ going to bomb the Citadel?” he clarified. He was very confused. 

She put her hands on her hips. “I’m going to put it back when I’m done anyway,” she said. “You should keep your sword and your PHS nearby though….and maybe warn the king and his shield. And maybe the prince and his shield too.” 

Cor her friend disappeared, replaced by Cor the marshal. “Monica, when?” he asked. _She would never ask me to do this. Kid, if my theory is right, what’s going on?_

So Cor _did_ know she could read minds. She looked into his eyes and pursed her lips. “ Cor, I _heard_ something in my last mission. If I’m right, I need to do it when he’s here.” 

_Glaive_ , she signed to him, making Cor’s eyes go wide, then hot with fury. 

“I’ll inform his majesty and his highness of the training exercise,” Cor said, stalking to the king’s office. 

Monica stared after him, feeling overwhelming gratitude that she was friends with an incredible man. Who trusted her. 

And then she continued re-wiring the sprinklers with more determination. 

.

* * *

. 

Nyx Ulric, hotshot hero of the glaive, was someone Monica knew peripherally. 

While the Crownsguard only received a fraction of his majesty’s magic, the glaive received a large part of it and it made tensions a bit high between both factions. 

Personally, Monica had no problem about being unable to warp. If anything, it looked incredibly disorienting. If anything, she was very happy about having an unlimited storage bag. But she needed someone to be able to warp, and who else would she pick, but the best one at it? 

“Ulric,” she said, finally locating him in the training rooms of the glaive. “The marshal needs you for something.” 

Ulric looked up from his kukris, saw her, and blanched. _Holy shit, it’s Mad Bomber Monica_ . Which. Hmm. What was she supposed to think about an epithet like _that?_

“I’m at the marshal’s beck and call,” he answered, trying for a smile and failing spectacularly. 

He waved goodbye to his fellows and followed her. “So what for?” he asked her. 

Monica didn’t answer and led him to her office. 

“Uhm,” he said nervously. “The marshal isn’t here.” _Astrals_ _, is she going to kill me?_

Monica sat on her chair and said, “Sit down please, I’m going to tell you something important.” 

_I’m pretty sure this was the scene of that murder story I was watching last night, but sure_ _,_ he thought.Monica waved that away as unimportant. 

“The marshal didn’t call for you,” she said. “I did. And you’re going to help me with tomorrow’s project.” 

Ulric relaxed minutely. “Cool. Details?” 

Monica smiled at him cheerfully. “Report tomorrow at seven in his office, and the marshal is going to tell you the rest of it. Make sure to be well-rested and to have all your weapons.” 

_Well, that’s not ominous at all._ Ulric thought as he walked away. 

.

* * *

. 

Monica, marginally more cheerful now that all her plans were aligning like a puzzle, dropped by the guard break room to find Dustin writing a will. 

“Dustin!” she called out cheerfully. “There you are!” 

Dustin jumped. _Shiva’s tits_ _warn a man_ _._ “Hey, Monica!” he said. “You were looking for me?” 

“Yeah,” she said, sitting down beside him with a thump and ignoring the poor guard that had to vacate in a hurry or be sat on. “You’re going to pick someone to work in monitors with you tomorrow. Someone you like.” 

“I suppose the marshal assigned me there?” he asked dryly. _We all know_ _'_ _the marshal_ _’_ _really means you, Monica._

Monica smiled, cat-like. It made everyone watching shudder, remembering the last explosion preceded by that smile. “Of course,” she said. “Be sure to charge your radio tomorrow, you’ll need it.” 

Before she could exit the door of the break room, she turned to look at the rest of the guard. Daisy was there, smiling back at her when their eyes met. 

“By the way,” she said slowly. “I heard something interesting when I passed by the glaive today. Something about Mad Bomber Monica?” 

A collective shudder ran through the room and everyone sat more correctly, backs ram rod straight. It was so silent, a pin could have dropped and they would have all jumped in terror. 

Monica looked at them and then smiled slowly. “I think I’ll hold a training exercise tomorrow. You all know what will happen if you’re not punctual.” 

_Fuck, we’re_ _all_ _going to die_ _,_ was the universal thought. 

.

* * *

. 

All players primed, pieces armed and ready. 

Monica passed by the monitor room and nodded to see everyone in place. She ignored everyone’s ever present terror at the sight of her, made sure that the traitor was in his office, and then detonated the bomb she placed under his chair. 

Oh, she knew it wouldn’t kill him. If General Glauca died with a measly bomb, then he would have been killed when she was clearing up Lucis of Nifleheim bases years ago. But in order to protect himself, Titus Drautus would have to cloak himself in the enchanted armor of General Glauca. And that would reveal him. 

“Dustin, alert the king,” she whispered to her radio, ignoring Dustin’s shout of query. 

There was the sound of a warp, and Cor and Nyx appeared, just in time to see Glauca emerge from the commander of the Kingsglaive’s office. 

“What the fuck?” Nyx Ulric whispered weakly. 

“Monica!” Cor barked, knowing that she was lurking in the corridor. _Make me space._

Cor’s sword needed more room to swing around and Ulric needed space to warp in. 

Monica nodded, detonating the charges, crumbling the wall and opening the corridor to the training grounds outside. To where the rest of the guard were waiting nervously for her to train them. 

Monica jumped down, and readied herself to summon bombs. “Guard,” she barked. “Ready shields.” 

It said a lot about the guard’s training that everyone went from nervous and uncertain to immediate attention. 

“Circle formation,” she shouted, jumping back and away as they formed a perfect interlocking circle, hands flaring out in the ready position and glowing blue, ready to cast the shield spell taught especially to the guard. 

Monica looked to where Cor had thrown Glauca into the center of the guard. “Cor!” she called. 

Cor looked at the formation they entered and smiled toothily. “Ulric, go ahead.” 

Nyx Ulric wasn’t the best in the glaive for nothing, and he fought like a demon possessed. He warped constantly, kukris flashing and aiming for weak points in the armor. Cor was even faster and stronger, batting away Glauca’s thrusts and striking true. When Nyx caught a glancing blow that made him stagger, Cor was there to take Glauca’s attention. When Cor had to duck, Nyx was behind Glauca and making him turn away from Cor’s vulnerable neck. 

Both of them worked in tandem and overwhelmed Glauca. His armor started to look battered. 

Still, she worried. One strike from Glauca seemingly caused massive damage. One glance from his armored fist made Ulric stagger and one sword thrust made Cor grunt. They both needed to hurry before it became a battle of attrition. 

Monica watched and waited, memorizing how Glauca moved, and when Nyx Ulric finally threw his knife outside of the circle of the guard lock, Monica summoned her biggest, most powerful chemical grenade. With a sound of the warp as their only warning, Monica threw the grenade in the center. They had two seconds, at best. 

Cor warped after Ulric, kicking Glauca in the head at the same time and disorienting him. 

“Lock shields!” she shouted, just in time for the grenade to start hissing, chemicals mixing ominously and for General Glauca to get back his bearings. He started to warp but - 

The grenade detonated and Monica didn’t even look away, trusting her glasses to shield her from the flare. 

Everyone’s breath held, but of course. When the smoke cleared. 

He was alive. 

The armor was dented and ripped in places. His helmet was missing and his face was very obviously shown. 

His face, wearing General Glauca’s armor and very obviously fighting Cor the Immortal, his majesty’s Sword. 

Monica couldn’t have prepared evidence like the one standing in the guard lock. 

“Titus Drautos,” she barked, feeling every syllable drop out of her mouth with a vicious glee. “You are arrested on grounds of treason, sedition and plotting against the Crown of Lucis. You are stripped of your title as commander of the Kingsglaive. Surrender and you will granted fair rights against – “ 

Her tirade cut off as he tried to warp out of the guard lock. 

Which wouldn’t work. The guard’s shields were specially created for defense against magic. 

_Monica, the hell._ “Monica, stop bullying him,” Cor sighed, leaning on Ulric who looked heartbroken and furious at his traitorous commander. 

Monica crossed her arms and glared at General Glauca, who glared back. 

“Well, this is a mess,” his majesty said, walking slowly but surely towards where the guard had the biggest traitor ever unearthed in the Kingdom of Lucis. Clarus Amicita walked beside him and looking just about ready to kill him. He was honestly welcome to do so. 

“Well done, marshal,” his majesty said. 

The king gestured and the magic that had been lent to the Titus Drautos was recovered by the Ring of Lucii. Warping was gone, as was whatever arsenal he had hidden away in the armiger. 

But he still had his enchanted armor. 

The king waved away the guard and Cor nodded at her. Well, their funeral. Monica took three seconds to appreciate how perfectly the trap went. Then she said, “Guard, unlock and lower shields.” 

In perfect synchronity, they did. General Glauca didn’t waste a second and lunged for her. He probably realized that the entire plot was hers. 

But Monica was ready for him. Armor that heavy and with that perfect lunge, it was like he was giving her the keys to bring him down. 

Monica lunged low, and went up, catching his arm and flipping him over her shoulder, planting a bomb on his back and shoulder and then slamming him on the ground. He had a sword, but Monica _heard_ and she regularly sparred with Cor anyway. She didn’t even pause, flicking a knife and deflecting the blow. The strength behind it was insane and it made her hand numb. She didn’t show the pain but just threw the knife at the joints of the armor, wiggling feeling back into her fingers at the same time. 

Enchanted or whatever, it was still armor. Joints had entry points for movement. He managed to stand and Monica was on the defensive, parrying his punches and his knives. She _listened_ to his mind and ducked and weaved around him, though it was difficult with how fast he was. She sacrificed and accepted a punch to her kidneys (which hurt like a bitch, oh Astrals) so she could punch him in the face and break his nose. 

Then she detonated the bomb she planted on him. 

When he cried out and didn’t move anymore, Monica was honestly a little disappointed. She wanted to blow more things up. 

“Prisoner is ready for transport, marshal,” she announced blandly. She looked up and Cor was looking exasperated. 

She _heard_ Glauca attempt to stab her again and she was just so. 

Fucking. 

Tired. 

Monica looked at him. 

“General Glauca,” she said pleasantly, a very happy smile on her face. “I am incredibly tired. I also have enough bombs stashed in the armiger to detonate the entire city of Insomnia. I am very quickly losing my patience with you. If you push me, I will use those bombs on you.” 

General Glauca didn’t move. 

.

* * *

. 

Monica was taken by Cor to the king’s sitting room. 

Everyone looked exhausted but Monica, still hopped up on success and giddy with relief, didn’t even feel tired. 

When the king sealed the room with magic, Monica took a moment to appreciate freedom and secrecy. 

“So,” Monica started, stopping whatever Cor was going to say. “Are we going to talk about that thing we don’t talk about and you pretend to know nothing about?” 

Cor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. _Fucking hell, kid. And don’t pretend you don’t hear me cursing._

Monica giggled and Cor’s lips twitched up. 

“No,” Cor sighed. “But thanks for that, you brat.” 

Ah, so they still wouldn’t say it out loud. 

“What did you hear in the interrogation rooms, Lieutenant?” his majesty asked. He looked relieved and sad at the same time. 

“There was a lot,” Monica shrugged. “I can write an entire report if you want. I’d rather not say it out loud. But,” and here, she grinned viciously. “I will make sure it will never happen.” 

_Fucking hell,_ Clarus Amicita thought. _It’s like_ _Cor_ _ha_ _s_ _a sister. Shit, it’s_ _Cor_ _The A_ _ngry_ _T_ _eenager,_ _T_ _he_ _R_ _eprise._

Monica was incredibly bemused. People kept thinking that lately. She was really wondering how Cor was as a young teenager.

“It’s going to piss off so many people,” she continued giddily. “Ah, I can’t wait.” 

Cor chuckled fondly as his majesty and Clarus Amicita blanched. 

“By the way, kid,” Cor said as she was readying to stand up. Her kidney’s hurt, fuck Glauca’s punches packed power. “You should really empty the armiger of all the bombs you stuffed there.” 

Monica made a face at the thought of losing her emergency bomb stash. 

“Do I have to?” she pouted. 

“You’re the one who announced you had enough bombs stuffed in there to wipe out Insomnia,” Amicita said. 

“I lied,” she sighed. If she was going to lose her bomb stash, may as well make it worth it. “I have enough bombs to level Insomnia _and_ Hammerhead.” 

Cor and his majesty broke out into loud cackling laughter as Amicita started shouting at Cor about corrupting young, innocent Crownsguard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Monica really get injured out of spite?....yes. Yes she did.
> 
> Will continue to post one-shots of Monica being obliviously terrifying.


End file.
